


Under the Bed

by SomethingFishy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU: Monster Under the Bed, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 11:32:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16639190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingFishy/pseuds/SomethingFishy
Summary: A Sherlock Kink Meme request from 2011- Sherlock is John's monster, who lives under his bed





	1. Chapter 1

John's teacher worried about his classwork. John was smart, and it wasn't as if he was having trouble understanding any of the work she gave him, it was just some of the things he wrote about in his morning journal or drew during art that caused her some concern. And now, as she sat down with John's parents, morning journal and drawings in from of them, her worry was starting to become a little more tangible.

 

John's mother was sitting at the table, hand over her mouth as she stared at a picture that John had drawn. The prompt had been 'family' and sure enough, John had drew his family. His father was first, a smiling man with mustache and a suit. Then his mother, with her curls and friendly smile. Then his sister, with her rainbow belt and short hair. Then John, who was smiling and holding his rugby ball. He had carefully written out 'Da, Mum, Harry, and Me' under each person.

 

But the thing that made everyone worry was the big scribble of darkness crouched next to John's knees, with a pale face and dark circles for eyes. Careful handwriting under it said, 'Sherlock, my monster.'

 

When there wasn’t a prompt, Sherlock was the only thing that John drew. Picture upon picture of dark crayon or coloured pencil scribbled in a mess. The first picture was just a ball of white and black on manilla paper. The next was the same. But over time they all became a bit more coherent. The monster took on a shape, his face became rounder, he had hands. But it's the morning journal took the cake.

 

The morning journal was just a five minute write that John's teacher made her students do at the beginning of class. It was pretty easy to do and most of the kids liked to write about whatever they wanted.

 

Recently, John stopped writing about what his sister did at dinner the night before, or how he missed his dad when he was away on business and started writing more about the monster under his bed. They all were loving, as of he was writing about his favourite dog instead of a creature only he could see.

 

_ I heard something under my bed last night. It was saying my name. I got really scared and ran into my parents room. I wanted to go to Harry's but she locked the door. _

 

_ Last night Sherlock told me about his family. He has a mum and a Da just like I do. He has a brother though, and I have a sister. Sherlock said that I'd be able to meet his brother someday. Then Sherlock called him a git. I wonder why. _

 

_ Sherlock can be really funny. I like him a lot. Other monsters didn't though, so he hid under my bed. I'm glad he hid there, instead of under Harry's. _

 

_ Sherlock told me that he didn't like being a monster. He was so sad. I ended up going downstairs and getting him a cookie. Shhh! Don't tell my mum.  _

 

At the end of the morning journal, Mrs. Watson was in tears. She clinged to her husband and dabbed at her eyes with a tissues. They called John into the classroom and sat him down, his morning journal opened to the page about Sherlock's family and the pictures in a pile next to it. The one on the top was of Sherlock's face, mouth open, black teeth lined like a shark's.

 

John looked at the picture with indifference, not even batting an eye. That creeped Mrs. Nesbit out more than it should.

 

John's father sat by John's side. He pulled the pictures to him and rifled through them. He pulled out the picture of family and pointed to Sherlock. "John, who's this?"

 

"Sherlock." he answered immediately.

 

"It says that he's the monster under your bed. Aren't you a little old to believe in monsters?" Mr. Watson smiled.

 

"I'm not to old. No one's too old. They just start to ignore the monsters. And he's not under my bed anymore." John looked around at the three adults before him. "Am I in trouble for writing 'git' in my journal?"

 

The adults let out a nervous laugh. "No, you're not in trouble, John." Mrs. Nesbit reassured him.

 

"What do you mean he's not under your bed anymore, John?" Mrs. Watson asked, stroking her son's hair.

 

"He's with me." John smiled.

  
At that moment, Mrs. Nesbit noticed that John's shadow was much too long. It turned, without John, and she would swear until her dying day, that it  _ smiled. _


	2. Chapter 2

The moment the rest of John's family were snug and asleep in their beds, John threw back his covers and slipped his feet to the floor. He pulled down his bear and blankets, tossing them down by his bed. As quietly as he could, he pulled a nickel out of his bank.

 

He laid down on the blankets, stomach down, and tossed the nickel under the bed. He pressed his face to the blanket on the floor, bear tucked into his elbow.

 

A white hand snatched the nickel out of the air before it hit the hardwood. John smiled as Sherlock appeared, white face moving out from the darkness. He held the nickel out in front of his dark eyes. Then he very carefully put it in his mouth and chewed on it.

 

"Hello, John." He said, smiling a bit.

 

John grinned at his friend. "Hello, Sherlock. How are you?"

 

Sherlock reached out and pinched John's nose between his thumb and pointer finger. "I'm quite fine. And you?"

 

John giggled, smacking Sherlock's hand gently. Sherlock held on for a moment before tugging gently and letting go. The first time Sherlock had tugged on John it was also by the nose, but instead of continuing the little game, John had slid into the bedframe and smacked his head. Sherlock had never forgiven himself for that.

 

"I got in a fight with Jim again today at school." John said, picking at the fur if his bear. Sherlock would have raised an eyebrow if he had any, but he didn't so he just tapped his nails against John's floor.

 

"Why? He didn't hurt you did he?" Sherlock's lips pulled back, showing his black teeth. He had once pulled one out for John, and given it to him. The next time John lost a tooth, John gave it to him. He still had it in his pocket.

 

"No, we didn't hit each other this time. I yelled at him because he was being mean. Mary's hair was done up today and he was pulling on it and calling her ugly. It wasn't nice." John pouted.

 

Sherlock had to agree. "He's an evil little boy. I hope he has a mean monster under his bed. One that growls and bites." Sherlock plucked the nickel from behind his teeth, looked at it and then put it back in his mouth to swallow it.

 

John's mouth twitched up in a smile, "That's a bit not good Sherlock."

 

Sherlock just tipped his head to the side.

 

Sherlock and John talked until about three in the morning. Sherlock made sure John was asleep by then. He liked watching the boy sleep, round blue eyes closed, pale lashes brushing his cheeks. Sherlock would always reach out and brush his fingers over John's eyes, loving the feel of his eyelashes against skin.

 

He liked to compare John to himself. Where John was pink, Sherlock was white. Where John was brown, Sherlock was black. John had white teeth, smooth with only two sharp ones in the front. Sherlock had shark teeth (Not that he knew what those were, he just picked up the term from John.). John's mum dressed him in colours so bright that Sherlock's eyes would hurt (like the one time John had worn a yellow shirt. Sherlock's eyes nearly bled before John had taken it off.). The only colour that Sherlock's mum dressed him in was blue, but never the blue of John's eyes.

 

John started to shiver when Sherlock was starting to stroke his hair. At first he didn't know what was wrong, but then he realised that it was cold where John was sleeping on the floor. His little lips trembled, and he was curled into a tight ball.

 

Sherlock looked from his friend to the blanket hanging from the bed, then out to the floor. If Sherlock was going to help his friend, then he would have to move out from under the bed.

 

Sherlock hesitated. His mum had always told him how dangerous it was to go near humans. He was breaking enough rules by just talking to John. But now John's teeth were chattering and John was really getting cold.

 

Sherlock slid from under the bed to the middle of John's floor. He snatched the blanket off the bed and threw it over John. Then he scrambled back under the bed. His heart pounded, and he had been holding his breath. A thrill ran through him, and Sherlock smiled.

 

Tomorrow night, he was going to talk to John on top of the bed instead of under it.

 


End file.
